


Come Home to Roost

by Alitneroon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitneroon/pseuds/Alitneroon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Hardhome, Jon is shellshocked, defeated, and afraid. Tormund comforts him in the days it takes to return to Castle Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was only the sound of the waves on the outside of the boat, hollow and rhythmic. Jon sat on his bed staring at the wall listening to it. Distantly he could hear footsteps and voices throughout the boat, but the waves drowned them all out, turning them into a background hum. Suddenly one set picked itself out from the others, heading towards his door. He looked up, waiting for it to open, steeling himself for whatever might be asked of him. They paused for a moment before knocking. “Come in,” Jon said, his voice surprising him with how steady it was.

The door opened and Tormund stepped inside. Jon breathed a sigh of relief. Anyone else would be here asking questions, demanding answers. He knew Tormund wasn’t that person. Tormund shut the door gently behind himself and grabbed onto the back of a chair to stay steady. “They’re asking about you above.”

“There’s nothing I have to say to them.” Jon sat up, looking directly at Tormund. “What do they want?”

“They don’t want anything.” Tormund nearly stumbled with a strong lurch of the boat, and Jon gestured for him to sit. He took the seat gratefully, turning the chair around and hanging onto the back. “They’re wondering where you are. They’re afraid, Snow. You need to reassure them.”

“There’s no reassurance I can give. I failed them.” Jon shivered as the images came back again, the thousands that now stood among the ranks of the dead. “I failed you. I couldn’t keep my promise.”

“You did the best you could. There are people on this boat who would be dead now if not for you.” Tormund said softly.

“Tell that to the ones who _are_ dead. To the loved ones of the people on this boat. I can’t bring them back, I can’t save them now. If I’d come just a little earlier, maybe-“

“Jon.” Tormund cut him off. “I know. But they’re gone now. There’s only forward. Your people need you.”

There was a moment of laden silence as they stared at each other. Jon tried to come up with a response, but he knew Tormund was right. He prepared himself to stand. Tormund spoke before he could get there.

“Just put yourself together for a moment. They need someone to tell them to keep going. The plan hasn’t changed because of what happened, we’re still going back. Yes?” Tormund stood, one hand going to the door handle.

“Yes.” Jon stood as well, but paused before the door, looking back at Tormund. “Thank you.”

“You can come back down and be alone afterwards, but you have to show them strength.” Tormund said.

A hand on Jon’s shoulder was a quiet comfort as he left the cabin and went above deck. A group stood talking as he emerged, turning to face him when they realized he was there. He was glad to see Edd with them. He walked to the center of the deck, waiting until he had everyone’s attention.

“Tormund tells me you’ve been asking about what to do now. The answer is simple: we go on.” His voice rang out true and clear, stronger than he thought possible. “We’re going back to Castle Black. We’ll walk in on this side of the wall to avoid causing panic from bringing the wildlings through. We have enough tents and rations for those we could save.” He finished, his voice dropping on the last line.

The crowd continued to whisper amongst themselves, but they seemed to be satisfied for now. Jon breathed a sigh of relief. He waved Edd over for a word, away from the group.

“What is it?” Edd asked, apprehension on his face and expecting bad news, as always. “That journey will be a tough one no matter what you say, you know.”

“I just wanted you to take care of a few things for me.” Jon said. “Relay the message to the other boats, spread the word to the rest of the ship, reassure them.”

"I can do that." Edd said. "Are you alright?"

Jon looked over at Tormund for a moment, finding him staring back. "I will be." He said to Edd. "Thank you for doing this. It means a lot, just taking some of the work."

"You're my lord commander." Edd replied. "It's my job."

Jon nodded once, curtly, before turning and going back below deck. He went straight back to his room, glad to be away from the scrutiny. He had said his piece. He hoped it was enough.

Pulling the chair up to the desk, the only pieces of furniture besides the bed in the bare room, Jon sat. He took out a quill pen and a piece of paper to write a message for the ravens. _Returning from Hardhome with around 4000 wildlings. Will be traveling by foot north of the wall. Expect to reach Castle Black in about a week._

He put away the ink and quill, holding the paper to let it dry, staring at the wall. He felt like he was just going through the motions. Empty after the shock of the fight and the white walkers and the vast numbers of dead, he comforted himself by doing what needed to be done.

As soon as the message was dry he stood, walking as quickly as he could to the makeshift rookery and handing it off. Yet again he found himself in the position of giving orders. It was still uncomfortable and new to him. He'd only been lord commander for a short time. He was used to taking the orders, not giving them, and he suspected power would never be comfortable.

Once he returned to his quarters, Jon opted for sitting on the bed again, thinking, chewing absentmindedly on a strip of jerky. He felt like a failure on some level, but he was also still in shock from the events of the day. It was just hours ago that he had been treating with the other wildlings. He had never expected an attack from the white walkers, not right then. On some level he could still feel the chill from killing the one, settled deep into his bones and refusing to leave.

Lost in his thoughts, he heard the steps outside his door again just seconds before it opened. It was Tormund, not bothering to knock this time. He shut the door behind himself and held out a wineskin. "You need a drink."

Jon smiled for the first time that day. "I do. Thank you." He gestured to the bed beside him. "Sit."

Tormund nodded and sat, opening the wineskin and passing it to Jon. "I didn't want you to sulk here on your own. You can't do that if you're going to carry on." Tormund said, taking the offered skin back and taking a sip of his own. They sat in silence for a moment. "You don't have to talk about it," Tormund continued, "But I think you should.”

Jon sighed. “It’s just a lot to deal with. I’ve only just become lord commander, you know. I’m not used to this kind of responsibility. It’s all on my shoulders, and I have to be strong for them.” He grimaced as he took a sip of the wine, more interested in its effects than the taste. “I’m not strong, though. Not like that.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job of pretending, you know.” Tormund murmured. “I was a leader of my clan for a long time, but I remember what it was like being new. It never really goes away, the feeling of being unable to handle it. It gets better, but it’s mostly about pretending for them. It’s a rare leader that truly knows what he’s doing. They think you’re strong, and that’s what matters.”

Jon stared in confusion as the words settled in. It should have made him feel even worse, but instead he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Tormund had found the exact right thing to say, somehow. Jon smiled. “Damn, you’re good.”

“The wine helps too, I’m sure.” Tormund said. He was right, Jon was starting to feel a pleasant burn in his chest. “I’ve been in your position. I know what it’s like.”

“This is what I like about you, you know. You’re honest, and you treat me like an equal. No one else would have come in here with wine, as a friend. They all think I’m untouchable.”

“Like I said,” Tormund mused, staring off into the middle distance for a moment, “I know what it’s like.”

“How are you so… I don’t know… cavalier about this whole thing?” Jon asked. “Thousands died and were raised again, and you barely seem affected.”

Tormund made a face, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “You fancy yourself a real northerner, but you’re still a pretty crow. I heard you fought one of the wights once, but that’s one. I’ve lived north of the wall for my whole life. I’ve seen these things many times. Certainly not so many in the same place, but regularly enough to get used to them.”

Jon stopped, holding the wineskin quietly, mulling over his next words. After a moment he decided to speak. He trusted Tormund to understand. “I killed a white walker,” He whispered. “I’ve never been so afraid before in all my life. I thought I was going to die, but I killed it all the same.”

Tormund was shocked into silence for a moment. “How?”

“Valyrian steel. I don’t know what it means.”

“That sword?” Tormund said, gesturing to Longclaw, sitting on the end of the bed. Jon nodded. “Can I see it?” Tormund asked, wide-eyed.

Jon passed it to him, and Tormund took it out of the scabbard, turning it to examine it in the dim lamplight. The ripples shimmered in the light. “Never really seen one of these before. It’s certainly pretty, but what’s so special about it?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Jon replied, taking the sword back. “Only a very few people ever knew how to make one, and all of them are dead. Maybe Sam can find the answer. It doesn’t matter.” He put it away, burying it under the pillow, out of sight. “I can still feel the chill in my arms from the strike. It won’t go away.”

“You’re not really hurt though, are you?” Jon was surprised to hear the level of genuine concern in Tormund’s voice. “No one here would know what to do about something like that. I hope it’s just the shock.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jon shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the bed. Eventually he took his boots off to pull his feet up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I can barely believe it happened. And now,” He dropped his voice, “Now it feels personal. When they were on the shore, they were staring straight at me. I could be wrong, but it feels like they’re coming for _me_ now. I killed one of them, and I was clearly the leader. They’ve stopped being an impersonal force. And it’s terrifying.”

“You could very well be right.” Tormund replied, turning slightly towards Jon. “I could tell you it’ll all be ok, but that would be a lie. You’re strong enough to handle the truth. It is terrifying, but you’re not in this alone. People support you, people will follow you, they’ll fight for you.”

“Mm.” Jon wasn’t sure what to make of that. He still felt uncomfortable with the attention granted to him, but it was true that he wasn’t alone. He was glad for the support.

“It’s getting late,” Tormund said, corking the wineskin as it was passed back to him. He placed a hand on Jon’s knee for a moment “I should go. You’ll be alright?”

Jon nodded. “Thanks. For the wine and the company.”

With one last look Tormund stood, making his way to the door in the shifting cabin. Jon sat for a few seconds before getting up to turn out the lamp.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but it did come. The wine dulled his senses, making it easier to forget about the day for a few moments and rest. The shock and the terror still lingered, but it was good to have a friend.


	2. Chapter 2

A day later they reached the shore along the wall. Jon watched as the other boats disembarked, supervising the unloading of all their supplies. There were horses enough for those who had come from Castle Black, but no more. He told Tormund to find the weakest of the wildlings, those who were injured and sick, and give them the horses of anyone who could walk. Most of the night's watch would be ok. He took a deep breath as he realized how difficult this journey would be. They had a lot of injured, and it would be cold north of the wall. _At least we have enough tents for all of them_ , He thought. He knew that it was dangerous to travel with them this way, but he didn't want to take them through the gift. It was controversial enough already to take them behind the wall at all.

Soon everything was sorted and he signaled for them to start riding. He felt guilty for having his own horse, but he knew no one would accept it either, and he needed to command respect. They made slow progress. Many of the wildlings had to ride double to have enough horses for everyone.

Tormund and Edd rode beside him for the short hours until they made camp, long enough before sunset to have everything set up. He selected a watch from among the healthiest men and then walked throughout the camp, helping where he could. His own tent was already set up when he was done. He made sure once more that everything was going smoothly and then retreated there, wishing to be alone for a minute.

He felt a little better now, separated from the horrors by a day, but seeing how small the camp was it hit him again. They had managed to save so few. It wasn't just the thought of the dead that chilled him, but the fact that these were the only allies he had brought back. They needed every man they could get.

Jon was glad to find his tent empty when he arrived. He sat on the bed for a moment, running his hands through his hair and catching his breath. There had been no answering message from Castle Black, but he hadn't expected any; it would be hard for the ravens to find them out here. He hoped that Ser Alliser would let them through with no incident when they reached the wall. He knew he couldn't trust Alliser to carry out his orders without question, but leaving anyone else in charge of the castle would have been considered an insult. He couldn’t have risked it.

Jon looked up as someone came through the tent flap. It was Tormund.

“Everything seems to be in order out there.” Tormund said, taking a seat on a stool without invitation. He looked around, taking in the furniture and the furs and the well-swept floor. “Nice tent.”

“Better than I need for this. The wildlings and the brothers aren’t fighting with each other, are they?” Jon asked.

“No, they seem to be fine. You picked a good group to take on this one. Thanks for putting free folk on watch as well. That helps settle them a little.”

“Of course.” Jon said, surprised. “They can do the job just as well my people. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone by leaving them out, and I’m sure it does help them feel a little calmer. I thought that would have been obvious.”

Tormund gave him a look Jon couldn’t quite decipher. “Not everyone would have done that, you know.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. “Did you come in here for anything in particular?”

“No, just checking in,” He said and stood. “I’ll be going now.”

“Tormund,” Jon called as he reached the door. He stopped. “Stay?” Jon asked quietly, gesturing towards the table.

Tormund smiled with the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have anything else to do.” He said, sitting down.

“I’ll get us some food.” Jon left the tent for a moment. He found a cookfire and fetched them two bowls of soup. There was ale back in the tent. He’d be drinking plenty of it tonight, he knew.

Carefully pushing the tent flap aside to avoid spilling, he made his way inside. Tormund took the offered food gratefully, but waited to eat, out of his usual fashion. Jon put his own bowl down and went across the tent to fetch the ale and two cups.

Jon dragged a stool over the floor to the table and sat across from Tormund. “I didn’t want to be alone again.” He said, pouring the ale. “You understand.”

Tormund made a quiet noise of agreement and started on the soup. They were silent as they ate, but Jon was glad for the companionship.

“You seem to be doing a little better.” Tormund remarked, pausing to take a drink of the ale.

“A bit, yeah.” He paused in eating, looking off to gather his thoughts. “Still in shock, but not quite so… empty.”

Tormund pushed away his finished bowl, reaching for the ale again and pouring himself another cup. "That's good. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Jon said, quickly, forcefully. He took in a calming breath. "I'd rather not."

"Well, I'm sure you don't want to sit in silence." Tormund leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Anything. It doesn't matter." Jon finished his own bowl of soup and got up, bringing both the bowls over to the side of the room, out of the way. He paused to look over his papers, suddenly uncomfortable under Tormund's scrutiny. "Let's talk strategy. What are we going to do when we get back to Castle Black?" Jon asked over his shoulder. He waited a moment before coming to sit back down.

Tormund shrugged. “You’re the lord commander. It’s not up to me.”

“Many of the men aren’t going to want you there. They didn’t approve of my plan before, and they won’t like it any better when I lead you through the gates. Ser Alliser in particular won’t be pleased, he’s always misliked me.”

Tormund shrugged. “I don’t know that there’s much you can do about that. They’ll think what they think. If we’re lucky, they’ll see the free folk for who we really are, like you did. If not, they’ll obey.”

“Maybe you’re right. I hope so.” Jon put his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together to calm himself. “Can you stop the free folk, if something happens? Can you control them? I need you to promise me that.”

“I won’t lie to you. I can’t guarantee it.” Tormund said. Jon dropped his head, nodding. “I promise I’ll try as best I can, and I’ll make sure the other clan leaders are on board as well. But that’s as much as I can do.”

“That’s enough.”

“Have you been sleeping?” Tormund asked, ale in hand, forcibly nonchalant. "Sort of." Jon replied. "Enough. Barely."

"Is the pretty little crow scared of the grumkins and snarks?" Tormund teased, smirking.

"Jon fought down a chuckle. "Stop calling me that."

"What, pretty crow? Pretty sure you're a crow." Tormund leaned over the table, peering at Jon. "That's a black cloak, unless you want me to believe I've suddenly gone blind."

Jon coughed, trying desperately not to spit out his ale. "The crow bit's not the bit I don't like," He said, laughing.

"Crow about it all you like, but I call ‘em as I see ‘em, and no man’s going to deny you’re pretty." Tormund retorted with a magnificent grin. "You want me to lie to you, Jon Snow? I'm not a liar."

Jon turned beet red, giggling, looking down towards the table to try and collect himself. He glanced up to find Tormund staring at him with his eyebrows raised and smiling over the top of his cup. He broke down again. The ale was starting to affect him, he could tell.

"Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not a crow." Tormund stood, coming around the table. Jon turned to face him as he walked. "Maybe you're a wildling princess, and I've gotta capture you."

"What- shit, no-" Jon said, standing, running away as Tormund came toward him, laughing. "Oh my gods, Tormund!"

Tormund followed him around the table. They came to opposite sides and he paused grasping the edge, leaning over. "You gonna-" Tormund gasped for breath through laughter- "You're gonna put up a fight?"

"I can't believe-" Suddenly Tormund looked over Jon’s shoulder and burst into laughter. He covered his face and turned away. Jon stopped. Someone behind him cleared his throat. He turned around.

It was Edd, standing in the doorway. He stared at them skeptically, one eyebrow raised.

"Edd." Jon said, pulling at the bottom of his shirt and straightening up, fighting down a smirk.

"Lord Commander." Edd tipped his head. "Tormund."

"What did you want to say?" Jon asked.

"I just wanted to tell you everything seems to be settled out there. Didn't mean to interrupt... whatever this is."

Tormund snorted behind him. "Alright, well, thank you. Is that all?"

Edd looked between him and Tormund and opened his mouth. He seemed to think better of it and nodded instead. "You don't need me for anything, do you?" He asked, in a tone of voice that suggested he very much hoped not.

"No," Jon squeaked, "You can go."

The tent flap closed and they burst into laughter. Jon grabbed the edge of the table for support, doubling over and clutching his stomach, gasping for breath.

"Sorry," Tormund choked out.

"Oh gods. I can't breathe. Edd-" Jon collapsed on a stool. "I can't believe you did that-"

Tormund let out a long breath as they calmed down, still giggling. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Jon smiled. "Yes, actually. Thanks."

"I should go." Tormund stood. "Get some sleep. There's a lot of long days ahead of us."

A gust of cold air blew in as Tormund left. Jon sat smiling to himself. He wasn't sure what to make of what had transpired, but he did know that he felt more alive than he had in days. He took one last sip of ale before getting up to bring the cups to the side of the room as well and put it away. Something left him with a warm feeling as he got ready to sleep and settled under the covers, half the ale, half the laughter, his chest still aching.

Maybe it was just the time that had passed, but he slept better than he had in days.

 

***

 

A light snowfall greeted them the next morning as the camp got moving again, agonizingly slowly. Jon made his way to the front of the column. He kept his eyes on the woods and watched for movement. The snow put him slightly on edge. It reminded him of the fog at Hardhome. He shook it off, telling himself there was nothing to worry about, it wasn't the same situation as before. The white walkers had scared them sufficiently, and they were miles away by now. Still, the uneasiness clung to him.

Tormund rode up beside him. "You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Jon replied. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Checking on me. I'm fine." Jon looked straight ahead. Something about the question felt touchy, like he was pushing too far. He shook it off. _It's just a simple question._

"You sure about that?" Jon could feel Tormund staring at him. "Sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. I'm just trying to help out."

"No, it's... it’s fine." Jon glanced at Tormund for a moment, checking his expression. He wasn't used to having someone worry over him. "How about you? Are you doing alright?"

"I told you before. I've seen things like this many times. I'm used to it."

Jon could sense a tiny bit of uncertainty in the statement, but he didn’t push it. He wasn’t ready to open that door. Tormund caring for him, teasing him, he could deal with. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if he reciprocated.

They rode on. It was a long, cold day, but it gave Jon time to think. He found himself slightly uncomfortable if he dwelled too long on yesterday, on Tormund's comments. His intentions were clear – Jon knew flirting when he saw it. He was surprised, but not as surprised as he expected to be.

The long day riding next to Tormund forced Jon to consider the things he'd been trying not to think about. The companionship was calming and easy, and until now he'd been able to tell himself it was just friendship, but that was a lie that was becoming harder and harder to maintain. If it weren't for his vows and the uncertainty, Jon knew he wouldn't object to more, and that thought scared him. He didn't know what to do with it.

The only thing he could do now was keep his eyes forward. Keep walking. _I'll take things as they come._ He couldn't figure this out right now, there were too many ifs, too many maybes.

Jon avoided Tormund when they made camp that night. He wanted time alone, time to think.

And if he didn't sleep as well, he told himself it was just the cold.


	3. Chapter 3

_Flames surrounded Jon._

_He looked around, he was alone. The building threatened to collapse under the onslaught of the flames._ The dragonglass, _he remembered, pushing his way through the flames, searching, but all direction seemed to be gone. The fire licked at him, but it was ice cold._

_Something wormed its way under his feet and he stumbled. Dead eyes stared up at him from a rotten face, flesh and hair falling away, but he still recognized it as his father. Suddenly they were everywhere, faces of the people he had known, people he had loved and people he had lost, people he feared losing. His brothers and sisters. Sam, Edd. Pyp and Grenn. Uncle Benjen. Tormund. Ygritte. They seemed to multiply in the corners of the room._

_Jon stared in horror as their eyes glazed blue, ever so slowly. He looked up and the white walker was there, standing at the door, watching him, waiting for his move._

_The first wight reached him and he drew his sword, cutting them down one by one, unable to look at their faces. He felt tears hot as fire streaming down his cheeks, but none of the dread was as strong as his instinct to survive. The walker waited for him, he knew. The last wight fell and he caught a glimpse of red hair before he pushed it into the fire, unsure who’s body it was._

_He turned to the white walker and advanced, pushing down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Every inch of him fought against it._ Easier to give up, _it said._ You won’t win. You can’t beat them.

_He stood up and told the gorge rising in his throat_ no. _He ran._

_The walker threw him across the room, into the arms of his brother._ Brave like Robb, _He thought._ I’ll never be brave like Robb. _He caught his breath and stumbled to his feet, pushing forward._

_He reached for Longclaw and it was gone. The blade plunged into him. Colder than ice, colder than anything should be able to be. He gasped as he fell, freezing from the inside out._

Jon Snow sat up in bed and screamed.

The quiet sound of the wind greeted him as he took in his surroundings, eyes flashing about wildly, breathing hard. Slowly he calmed. He put his head in his hands and tried to steady his breathing. _Just a dream._

The blankets slipped and he shivered, but he didn’t bother to pull them up. He took a shaky breath and choked out a sob. Footsteps at the door made him look up, expecting armed men, ready to fight whatever had made him scream. Instead it was Tormund.

He dropped his hands from his face and softened, the tension melting away. Part of him thought that he should be unsettled. The opposite was true. He wiped a tear from his face as Tormund approached and stopped at the foot of the bed. “A nightmare?”

Jon nodded. “Do you think anyone else heard that?” He asked. He didn’t want to show weakness.

“Someone, probably, but I didn’t see anyone leave their tent.”

“Good.” Jon threw the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed. It was dark in the tent, and cold. He got up to put on his heavy clothes and cloak. “I’m going to go for a walk. I can’t sleep after that.” Tormund nodded and stepped aside to let Jon out of the tent. “Walk with me?” Jon asked.

“Of course.” Tormund answered.

A half moon lit the camp as they wandered through it. The icy air reminded Jon of the dream, freezing deep in his lungs, but he did his best to ignore it. In silence they made their way to the edge of the camp and started a loop around the outside.

“I wish I could just tell myself they’re not here,” Jon murmured, finally, “But we’re still on the wrong side of the wall.”

Tormund was silent for longer than Jon liked. “You can’t live in fear of them. You’ll never get anything done.”

“I know.” Jon considered telling him about the dream, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. It made sense. He knew what he was afraid of. It lingered in his thoughts, but there was no reason to help it along.

“I’ve lived beyond the wall all my life. I’ve learned that the only way to survive it is to not be afraid. Your way of life is not my way of life. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the fear. I’ve just learned how to deal with it.”

The question sat on Jon’s tongue for a moment before he asked it, unsure if he was prying or not. Of all the things he had to face, it was this specific fear that was the worst, the pure psychological horror of it worming its way into his brain slowly but surely. “Have you ever had to kill a wight you recognized?”

“Yes.” The whisper barely carried to Jon on the wind.

“Are you able to do it, when the time comes? Able to tell yourself it’s not really them? Because I don't know if I could. I'm afraid," He finished, voice breaking.

"You are. You can. I promise." Tormund stopped walking. "That's the worst case scenario. You shouldn't dwell on things like that. But I'm confident that if it comes to that, you'll be able to do it. You killed a white walker. You are braver than you think."

They kept walking. Jon tried to think of things to say, but nothing came to mind, the silence dragging on. He didn't mind, to be honest. He didn't need words, just the quiet, solid support.

"You're a good leader, if that helps at all." Tormund said finally. "You inspire people, but more than that, you know how to make the right decisions. You know how to lead, how to get people to follow."

"Thank you. It does.” Jon lied. He knew Tormund believed what he said, but it felt empty anyway. He wasn’t confident enough to really believe it.

Tormund paused, clearly collecting his thoughts. "I never understood why she loved you, you know. Not while she was alive."

Jon took in a sharp breath, blindsided by the mention of Ygritte. He didn't want to hear about her, not now. He opened his mouth to try and cut Tormund off and got beaten to it.

"Not until you freed me. That's when I saw it. It's not that I disliked you before, in fact, I rather enjoyed your company before you deserted us. But I never truly understood."

Tormund paused again, and this time Jon let him, wanting to know what he had to say. This was interesting, this was something else. He held his breath and waited.

"You're your own person, and that's your strength. You don't care about the free folk versus the night's watch, not truly. You care about doing the right thing. She saw that in you. She loved you for it. I didn't understand that until you asked me to come to Hardhome. Few people would have had the courage to do that, to defy tradition and risk harm because you knew in your heart it was the right way. Of course," He smiled, teasing, "Your time with us helped you see that too, I’m sure."

Jon waited to respond, collecting his thoughts. "No, you're right.” He responded finally. “I don't quite know where my loyalties lie, exactly. But you're the first person to tell me that's a strength." He dropped his voice, eyeing one of the watchmen. "I was never truly one of the free folk, and my own people think I'm a traitor for this."

"It's a rare quality, being able to rise above allegiances. I didn't realize that until I saw you, either – you taught me that, if not on purpose. If you had told me a month ago that my truest friend would be a crow, I would have torn you apart for it."

Jon frowned, staring at the ground. "We killed the rest of your friends."

"Things happen in war. I grieve, but I don't fault you for it."

"That's better than a lot of others would give me." Jon was still trying to process the information. "Still, truest friend? I'm surprised you'd go that far."

"I asked you to go to Hardhome with me because I knew they would need a guarantee. When we got there I was glad to have you by my side because I knew you would support me, not because you needed to, not because I demanded it, but because you believed in it. When we left we were partners, on and off the battlefield. Something drew me too you, and I trust you more than I probably should.”Tormund paused again, and Jon could feel another unexpected statement coming. He prepared himself this time. He wouldn't be blindsided by this one.

"When Mance died, I lost my cause. I'd had something to believe in, truly believe in, for the first time in my life, and suddenly it was gone. And then you came along and told me everything was going to change, and I believed you. Even though I'd just been burned, just had a man fail to fulfill the same promise, I believed you. I believed _in_ you. I don't know what it was. I think I got it right this time, though. Even Mance, even with his history, believed in the free folk against the night's watch. He would never have stood where you're standing now."

They stopped in a pool of darkness between lanterns. "I don't know what to say to that." Jon responded.

"You don't need to say anything. Just know it's true." Tormund started walking again and Jon followed after a moment, staying a step or two behind him.

Something about the speech touched him. He wasn't sure that Tormund's proclamations were really true, that his uncertain loyalty was truly a strength, but he could tell Tormund believed in what he said. It was a lot of take in. He knew Tormund enjoyed his company, but this kind of declaration was so much more than that.

_Truest friend._ Would he return the title, Jon wondered? Tormund was certainly a valued friend, a good friend, especially in the last few days, but Jon had so many others he cared about, back at Castle Black and elsewhere. Would he put Tormund above Sam? _Probably not._ It felt unfair, somehow. That Tormund should rely so much on him where Jon did not. He felt he needed to say something – he couldn’t leave it like that.

“Tormund.” Jon called from behind, and he stopped, turning. “You’re a true friend, too. Thank you for saying all that. It means a lot.”

“I always try and tell the truth.” Tormund smiled. “You ready to go back to sleep now?”

Jon laughed. “Yeah, I think so. I’m getting a little cold anyway.”

They walked back towards their tents without hurry, regardless of the cold.

“Rest, Jon.” Tormund said when they arrived at his tent. “We’ll be at Castle Black the day after tomorrow. You’ll be safe there.”

“Thank you. I will.” Jon nodded and turned away, back to his own tent. He changed quickly and tried to warm up under the blankets. He couldn’t regret the walk, though, no matter how uncomfortable he was. The nightmare had faded, a strange sort of happiness replacing it.

He slept soundly.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“This is our last day on the road. We should prepare them for arrival at Castle Black.” Jon said to Edd. “Tell them what to expect.”

They rode together at the head of the column. “Sounds good to me.” Edd replied. "You can ask Tormund to spread the word."

"We'll have to make it clear that they're going face some animosity from the brothers. Not that they don't know that already. But we should tell them anyway."

"What about the dead?" Edd asked.

Jon frowned. There had been some deaths among the wounded wildlings out here on the road, from the cold and their wounds both. "I imagine they'll want to burn them on this side of the wall. We can do that tonight. Tell some men to gather wood when we make camp."

"You think Alliser is going to let them in?" Edd asked.

Jon sighed. "I hope so. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Jon wasn't as worried as some of the other brothers seemed to be. He knew it was a possibility, but he'd always found Alliser to be rational and loyal, even considering his dislike of Jon. If he was going to make a move, he would have done it already.

A sudden gust of wind blew snow into Jon's eyes and he blinked it away. He was ready to get back to Castle Black, to sleep in his bed again, to be warm again, at least as warm as you could get this far north. His legs were starting to get sore from sitting in the saddle. He was worried about the people who had to walk, feeling guilty again about his horse.

"I'll go let Tormund know about our plans." Jon said, struck by a sudden desire to see him. They'd only spoken to each other briefly that morning. Tormund rode at the back of the column, guarding the stragglers, so Jon wheeled his horse around at the nod from Edd and rode back along the length of the group.

Something about Tormund's speech the night before had erased the last bit of hesitancy he had about getting close to him. If Tormund could be so open and honest with Jon, it made it easier to do the same. He no longer felt like there was something off about it, something to be afraid of. Tormund said what he meant and didn't hide what he thought, and Jon liked that. He knew where they stood.

Tormund nodded in greeting as Jon approached. "Joining me back here?"

"For a moment at least." Jon fell in step beside him. "Just discussing a couple things. I thought that the free folk might want to burn their dead tonight, while we're still north of the wall."

"Yeah, that'd be good." Tormund said, giving Jon a look he couldn't quite decipher, his face soft. "Thank you for thinking of that."

"Edd and some brothers will gather wood for you when we make camp. Would you spread the word?"

"Of course. I'll tell the clan leaders. They'll each spread it to their people."

“Make sure they know what to expect when we get to Castle Black. That they have to be careful not to provoke the watch.”

Tormund nodded. They rode together a while, enjoying each other’s company, until Tormund finally went to carry out his task. Jon remained at the end of the column. He knew it would have been fine to let one of the other brothers take the job, but he rather liked being able to see them all at one, stretched out ahead of him. It settled him a little, knowing he could watch over the whole group.

When it was time to make camp Jon returned to the front of the column. He was glad to see that Edd had already dispatched brothers to gather wood, and they piled it just beyond the edge of the forest as the camp came together.

Finally it was time to burn the bodies. Jon watched as the free folk brought their dead forward. There was a member of the night’s watch among the dead, but he lay in the camp still, to be brought back to Castle Black. The free folk were solemn, already having grieved, but it hurt to see so many of them burning at once.

Jon saw Tormund standing among his people and smiled in sympathy. He looked at home with them, he didn’t stand out like he did among the night’s watch. It was strange to Jon, after so many days of treating Tormund as an ally apart from the rest, to see him mixed in with the group. It reminded him that despite all else he was still one of the free folk, that he could never be removed from that. It filled him with an unexpected fondness – Tormund wasn’t special to him in spite of it, he was special because of it, because he had been able to overcome those boundaries to become friends with Jon.

The fires burned down and the free folk started to disperse back to their tents. The sun was already falling below the horizon when Jon began his evening meal, sitting around a cookfire with a few of his brothers, Edd by his side. They whispered around him about what would happen when they reached Castle Black. Jon pretended not to hear.

Finally the fuel ran out, and the food ran out, and the people began to go to bed. Jon waited outside even as the stars appeared and the night chilled. Edd left and still he sat, listening to the quiet camp. Tomorrow this journey would be over. He would be glad to be back, but it brought another whole host of complicated problems, ones that were easy enough to forget about out on the road. _Fear on this side of the wall,_ he thought, _hatred and mistrust on the other._

He spotted a lone figure making its way towards him through the camp, its shape unmistakable. Tormund walked into the circle and stopped in front of Jon. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”

“But you knew I wouldn’t be,” Jon stood, “Or you would have come earlier.”

Tormund broke into a grin. “Must everything always be about you? You’re right, though. I knew you would be here, thinking your pretty head off about tomorrow.”

Jon wanted to talk to him about it. Truly, he did. But in that moment all of that fled from his head, a wave of nerves sweeping over him. Tormund was unusually quiet in his speech, unusually serious in his expression. Jon knew he wanted his company, his counsel – Jon didn’t know what he wanted. All Jon knew was that he had a sudden instinct to run, run before he did something stupid, run before he did something reckless and brave. Run before he found the courage to follow his heart.

“You’re right, I should sleep.” Jon said, turning away, back towards the safety of his own tent.

“Jon.” The word was so soft, it would have been impossible for him to resist. He stopped, turned halfway. “Don’t let the moment pass.”

Jon shut his eyes and faced Tormund, opening them again slowly but avoiding eye contact. “What do you mean?” He knew what he meant.

“Tomorrow we’ll be at Castle Black, and everything will be different. Who knows, maybe we’ll have another chance. Maybe we’ll have all the chances in the world. Or this could be it. Things could go downhill as soon as we arrive, more than you’re expecting, more than the worst possible outcome, and we might have missed our chance.” Tormund came a step closer and Jon struggled to control his breathing. “All I know is right now, we have a chance. We have a moment. I want this… and I think you do too.”

“My vows-“

“Fuck your vows. You broke your vows once before for a wildling kissed by fire. Why not again? You know it’s worth it, you know what it’s like.”

Somewhere deep inside, Jon knew he had already made up his mind. He wanted to hear the arguments, though, wanted to be calmed and reassured. “We’d have to hide.”

“I know that.” Tormund sighed and stepped closer, closing the gap between them. “I know you’re nervous, Jon. Do you trust me?”

At least there was a clear answer to that. “Yes. I do.”

Jon finally found the courage to look into Tormund’s eyes, to take in his face. There he found concern, and warmth, and yes, desire – but it was the tiny hint of anxiety that broke his last resistance, the reminder that he wasn’t the only one affected here, that Tormund cared about this too. “Not here.” Jon said, gesturing to the camp. “Not in the open like this.”

“Of course. We’ll go to my tent.” Tormund turned away, breaking the tension for a moment.

“Your tent?” Jon asked.

“They won’t be looking for you in my tent.”

“Oh,” Jon said, and followed.

It was smaller than Jon’s, and cozier, furs covering the bed. Jon sat. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He cursed his inexperience as Tormund tied the door closed and came to sit beside him.

 _I can do this,_ Jon thought, as Tormund’s hand ghosted down his side.

 _He cares about me. He’ll be careful._ Jon told himself as Tormund’s other hand cradled the back of his head, and he raised his own hand to copy the movement.

And then Tormund kissed him, and he didn’t think anything at all.

Jon’s breathing stuttered as they moved apart for a moment. His every nerve was ablaze, taken aback by the kiss, so different from Ygritte’s constant motion and clean face. Tormund was warm and calm and most of all solid, points of contact steadying Jon against the uncertainty of it all. He shifted to sit further on Tormund’s bed and pulled his knees off the edge and into the tangle between them. A second hand went to the back of Tormund’s head and Jon moved back in, deepening the kiss, trying to let himself go.

They paused to take their boots off and move fully onto the bed. The soft furs caressed Jon’s feet and the small luxury of it took him out of the wilderness, until all there was was this tent, this bed, and the man in front of him. His fear faded and he buried his face in Tormund’s neck, confidence overtaking him, kissing ever so gently so as not to leave a mark. A soft exhalation of breath was all the response he got. It was enough.

“What do you want to do?” Tormund whispered. “Tell me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know.” Jon replied, pausing with his head over Tormund’s shoulder. “I’m so inexperienced – I’ve never been with a man. I don’t know what to do. But I trust you.”

Tormund pulled gently at Jon’s hair, running a hand through it, pausing in his other movements. “Lay down,” He said finally.

Jon did, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. He could see Tormund now in the dim lamplight, and even still fully clothed as they were, it revealed a depth of emotion in Tormund’s face that he was completely unprepared for. He nearly looked on the verge of tears.

Coherent thought fled again as Tormund’s hand went to unlace his trousers. Jon tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling of the tent. Cold air hit him, followed by warm breath, and then Tormund’s mouth was on him. He couldn’t think, he could barely breathe, it was all he could do to keep quiet–

He had forgotten what the first time was like. It had been so long, and it was so different, the newness of the experience overwhelming him. Soft noises and heavy breaths and his own hand clutching at Tormund’s curls, tiny things he caught in the haze grounded him to reality. Jon whimpered as he came, unable to stay totally silent, and Tormund moved up to kiss him quickly as he caught his breath.

There were no words – not because Jon was at a loss for them, but because there were so many he didn’t know which to say. His mind was a jumbled mess as he turned to Tormund, now lying beside him. One thing stood out from all the rest: he was certain now. Certain this was something he wanted. Not because of desire, not that it hadn’t been incredible – it had – but because of the intimacy. Laying here in the near darkness, not quite communicating, but connecting with just their eyes, he found an intimacy and honesty he hadn’t known he was missing.

“What about you?” Jon asked, quietly.

“Don’t worry about me.” Tormund laid a hand on Jon’s hip and pulled him close, kissing him again, softly this time.

“No, let me–“ Jon said when they broke apart, reaching for Tormund, but he found that his hand trembled.

“Jon.” Tormund took his hand to stop it, moving it between their chests. “Truly, I’m fine. I know you’re nervous, and we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

Jon gave up and weaved his fingers into Tormund’s hair, letting them rest there, instead enjoying the silence.

“I don’t want to go back to Castle black.” He said after a pause. "I mean, I do. I know I have to. It's just that – like you said – things will change. I don't want things to change. There's so many people who resent me, so many conflicts to resolve. It'll only get worse with the free folk there."

"You can get through it. I'm sure of it." A gust of cold wind blew into the tent and Tormund pulled a blanket over them to keep warm.

"I don't want this to be a one time thing. I don't want it to change." The admission was barely audible but Tormund heard it all the same. He wrapped one arm around Jon's shoulders and another around his head and pulled him close. Jon closed his eyes and buried his face in Tormund's shoulder, breathing in slowly.

"It might be difficult in the days to come, but I want to try." Tormund replied.

Jon smiled, but he was afraid. The last time he had someone he had let her go. _I don't ever want to leave this cave,_ she had said, and Jon ignored her. They left and everything fell apart. She was right, and he should have listened.

Jon knew he couldn't truly stay here, but something about this moment felt like before. He was afraid of what might happen if they left this tent. _We should have stayed in that cave, Jon Snow._

A wave of guilt rolled over him as he thought about Ygritte. _Tormund’s not replacing her,_ he thought. Tormund might be another redheaded wildling, but he wasn't Ygritte. He was solid and loyal and true, and Jon felt safe here. Ygritte was gone. _The dead can't hear us, boy._

Jon needed to turn his thoughts away from that before they consumed him. Whichever way he looked at the issue it bothered him, but it wasn't here and now. It didn't matter. This mattered. "How about you? Are you ok? You've spent so much time worried about me these past few days, I haven't gotten to return the favor."

Jon felt Tormund tense ever so slightly. "I don't like people worrying over me."

"I care about you too, you know." Jon hadn't even realized it was true until the night before. He knew he enjoyed Tormund's company, but he'd ignored the concern he felt on his behalf, afraid of what it might mean. "If this is going to work, you can't just have it one way."

Tormund was silent and Jon pushed on. "I saw you were bothered earlier, after burning your dead. I noticed you took more time to be with your people. You can talk about it if you want to." Jon clung to the furs with one hand, unsure where the courage to confront this was coming from. He was jumping in headfirst, suddenly, despite the uncertainty.

The silence stretched on until Jon was unsure Tormund was going to answer at all, when finally he spoke. "It's difficult. I didn't know most of these people, but it’s hard seeing more dead. I lied before. You never really get used to it. You learn to deal with it better, yes. But you’re never unaffected.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon said.

“For what?”

“For being a crow. For killing your friends, before. For betraying you.” Jon shifted to look at Tormund. “This – whatever we have, here, it transcends that, but it doesn’t erase it. I know it must be strange for you. I won’t lie, it’s strange for me.”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, Jon Snow. This isn’t one of them. A month ago, yes. Now, not so much.” Tormund shrugged. “You’re right in principle, that I should be happier seeking comfort with other free folk. Life tends not to work like that, though. I’m sorry I killed your friends, you’re sorry you killed mine, and we’ve both grown. It’s ok.”

Jon didn’t know what to say to that, so he smoothed his thumb over Tormund’s cheek instead before replacing it with his lips, beard rough against his face. Kissing was easier than talking, so they kissed instead of talking. All the important bits came through clearly and the awkwardness and uncertainty was gone. They kissed until Jon had to come up for air, and then they kissed some more.

"I wish I could stay here." Jon said. His hand lay on Tormund's hip, his other hand cradling Tormund's head, gently rubbing circles into his temple with his thumb.

"So do I."

"They'll know if I'm not in my tent in the morning."

"I know." Tormund shifted and Jon thought he was going to kiss him again, but his lips met Jon's forehead instead. "Sleep well, pretty crow. Someday we'll spend the night."

Jon got out of bed before he could change his mind. He gave one last look to Tormund as he left the tent, a blast of cold air chilling him. He shivered. Only the moon looked on as he crossed the short distance to his tent and pushed inside.

The bed felt empty and cold but he slept soundly, regardless of tomorrow. The feeling of safety he had found started to fade but didn’t truly go away, and it kept him in a strong embrace.

 

***

 

The gate loomed as they approached Castle Black. Jon swallowed and urged his horse forward, beyond Tormund and Edd. The column followed, speeding up to match him as he brought them around to stand before the wall.

Jon dismounted. Tormund and Edd and the other brothers followed his lead, moving to the front. Jon looked up and knew who the figure on the wall was. He didn’t need to be able to see him. He knew what Alliser saw, too: a wilding horde, standing, waiting for him to open the gates.

A breath in, a breath out. He looked to Edd, Edd nodded. He looked to Tormund. He wasn’t ready for this, but he would do it anyway. He stepped forward.

The gate opened and Jon let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He got back on his horse and walked ahead, ready to lead them in. “Have a few men stay out here.” He said to Edd. He gestured to Tormund with a flick of his head and they rode side by side. He felt it was only appropriate to share the front.

 _No lord commander has ever led the free folk through the wall,_ He thought, and the weight of history settled on his shoulders as the gap to the gate closed. _I bet no lord commander has ever taken a wildling lover, either._

He turned to Tormund. “Together?” He said, confident they were out of earshot.

“Together.” Tormund answered.

The tunnel engulfed them in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is dedicated to @tormvnds and @greekclub on tumblr who inspired and motivated me to write it, love you guys!
> 
> You can find me at @oathkeepeer to yell about Jon and Tormund anytime.


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